Tweed has always been kind to his body.
He is not an aggressive chewer, and he doesn’t run face first into stuff, so he still has all his teeth, intact and virtually unworn. Unlike some of my other dogs.
He does not (unless terriers bodyslam him) fall down, not even in his enthusiasm to get stuff, so no back problems (*coughWOOTIEcough*).
He has never tried to defy gravity
nor take unnecessary risks with his well being.
It is therefore cruelly ironic that Tweed, who has traveled wisely through so many years of his life, is tormented by his own feet.
First there was the sesamoid disease and the painful prolotherapy on both his bloody feet, one year after another (although prolotherapy gave him magical, Regionals winning super powers). Now he has tumour toe. Or some kind of growth on his outermost front left food toe, right at the nail bed. A month ago it was diagnosed as an injury to the nail bed and an infection, but on re-examination, it is growing, it is vascular and if you try to poke it with a needle to get a cell sample, Tweed will EAT YOUR FACE.
As I am posting this, I am anxiously waiting for the histiology results, but also hoping they don’t come, because either way, it’s going to mean that Tweed loses his toe! His feet hate him so much they are trying to escape his body!
The thing is whatever this, well, thing is, it wants help to go away. It is right in, or IS, the nail bed. It can’t actually be cut away on it’s own, so if it’s goin’ down, it’s taking the toe with it. Dr. Bowra (who still has his face only because I had a death grip on Tweed’s when he took the sample) says that the sample will most likely be inconclusive. A biopsy would require a painful surgery that is in an extremely difficult location, and if the biopsy said something bad, that would mean a second surgery (bad), so it makes more sense to do ONE surgery on a very old dog, and just remove the whole toe.
“Fortunately,” he said cheerfully, “he doesn’t need that toe.”
I disagree. So does Tweed. We love all of his toes, even if one is being an asshole right now. That toe is kind of like the TWooie of toes. It’s being a real jerk, it’s trying to run away from home and sometimes you want to beat it to death with a big stick, but you’re pretty attached to it anyway.
Right now, I feel like this:
In addition to toe-tally scary toe problems, we are having TWooie-Dexter problems. They are the same problems we always have, except they are escalating a little. In about a month, Dexter will be 4 years old (can you believe I have survived 4 years of Dexter Morgan-ness?). He is finally becoming a mature dog, and as such has subsequently realized that he outweighs TWooie by 20 lbs and is like 9 feet taller than he is. He is starting to instigate growling and ugly-face matches with TWoo, whereas previously he tried to avoid him, slinking out of the room with Mad Teeth™ lingering in the air behind him like a cartoon speech bubble. I worry that one of these days he is going Dexter-launch at TWooie and we’ll have a full on war.
I also suspect, but cannot prove, that TWooie does not let him in the living room/kitchen after I leave for work, as the poor giraffe is beyond thirsty when I get home, and is ALWAYS under the bed.
I harbour feelings of intense guilt because I brought home TWooie when Dexter was still a puppy, and TWooie has bullied him from the get-go. I also instilled in Dexter strict rules about not fighting with other dogs, because he’s too big, too fast and has too much temper to let that shizzat go unchecked. Thus, he is either going to explode at TWooie with 4 years of pent-up resentment, and kill him, or TWooie is going to kick his ass and demolish his already fragile self esteem, for Dexter is nothing if not a soft, mushy little princess.
I think Dexter would be happiest without a TWoo in the house. I think Wootie could live without his brother. I think TWooie would crumble to dust without his fluffy orange pump-kin. And I think there is nobody on this earth as stupid as me to live with TWooie, so I doubt I could rehome him anyway. And I am NOT GIVING AWAY WOOTIE!!
But I think, sometimes, that I am being very unfair to Dexter to make him live with a dog he hates and fears so much. He was here first, and he was pretty meticulously planned in joining the household. TWooie was an accident. And it might be, if I’m being honest, that he was also a mistake.
What was also a mistake was buying Piper a giant exercise ball. She loves those things, so I went and bought her one. I didn’t even have time to take a photo of it before it turned into this:
Wootie clearly wanted a super hero cape.
Anyway, I clearly have some things to chew on for the next little while.
Please think some “Keep Tweed Toe-Tal” vibes for my old man!